“Plus, I was the one who suggested the life insurance to Lenny. Me. Their lawyer. Because I knew they were continuing to travel and to take part in all these crazy adventures like hiking and bungee jumping and falling out of airplanes. They needed to protect each other, in case something happened. And one-point-five is nothing in relation to their lifestyle.
“There is no indisputable evidence. The blood on Micah’s neck that their DNA expert claims is from the time of the stabbing could have easily been spattered during the life-saving measures Micah took that evening. And contrary to what the prosecution would have you believe, the older methods of blood analysis are inferior to the more current ones. The professional association, of which the prosecution’s expert witness is an active member, highly recommends discarding the practices that he himself used to analyze this crime scene. Plus, Micah was at a party that evening, dressed in a tuxedo, white shirt, no blood anywhere. He saw plenty of people, and no one reported him acting strangely or mysteriously.
“There are no gaps in the timeline. There was an unusual amount of activity in the city that night, and the so-called gaps are no more than twenty-five minutes each way. Less time than a sitcom on TV when you bypass the commercials on your DVR.” Some of the jury members laugh.
“Lastly, there is no confession. My client was distraught. He saw his best friend, his traveling partner, his husband of two years, gasping for his last breath and did the first thing that popped into his mind. He tried to save him the only way he knew how. And when he realized that what he did to help his husband actually harmed him further, he was distressed about his choices. As any of us would have been.
“That’s all this case is about. A devoted husband wanting to save the love of his life. Save him from whatever, and whoever, happened to him earlier that night.
“I ask you to find Micah Breuer not guilty on all counts and force the prosecution to explore the many other leads they ignored. Thank you.”
Shawn sits back in his chair next to Micah.
“Is there a rebuttal, Ms. Lerner?” Judge Wilson asks.
“No, your Honor.”
As the judge issues his instructions for the jury, Shawn turns to Micah, who is shaking.
“Hey, buddy, what’s wrong? You gotta hold it together. We got this,” he says.
“You keep saying that, but it’s gonna be”—his breath gets the best of him—“be bad, I can feel it.”
Micah continues shaking, beginning to spiral out of control. Out of the side of his eyes, he sees one of the jurors do a double-take, and the adrenaline rush calms the episode.
“You good?” Shawn asks.
“No.”
C h a p t e r 4 3
“I know you may have felt pressure from us, but we wanted to tell you, no matter what happens, we appreciate you and all you have done for our son.”
Elaine and her husband are standing in the doorway of Astrid Lerner’s office, but do not bother to come in.
“I appreciate that, Elaine,” Astrid replies, setting aside some case notes on the Union Square murder. “I really do.”
The phone rings.
“We’ll let you get that,” Elaine says, pulling her husband’s hand.
“Astrid Lerner,” she says into her iPhone.
She pauses.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
C h a p t e r 4 4
“All rise, court is now in session,” announces the court clerk. “The honorable Judge Christopher K. Wilson presiding.”
Micah is dressed in his white T-shirt and jeans. Shawn is dressed in his suit from earlier in the day, but his tie is gone, and he is a bit drunk. He grabs Micah’s hand in nervous, excited anticipation.
Astrid has situated herself at her table, tapping her phone with her fingernails. She has experienced a quick jury before, and the result is never good news.
Having never gone home, Mr. and Mrs. Holcomb are standing next to the door. Jenna is sitting in front of them. Micah turns around to see who is in the courtroom.
“You called Jenna?” he asks Shawn.
“I texted her that there was a verdict. She didn’t text back. Is she here?”
“Yes!”
“Thank you,” Judge Wilson begins. “I know it’s late, so let’s move through this. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it has been less than ten hours since I gave you instructions and sent you into deliberation. You have considered four counts, including second-degree murder, first- and second-degree manslaughter, and criminally negligent homicide. These are all very serious charges. Have you reached a verdict?”
The jury foreperson, the same one who had performed the sign of the cross after saying that child-abusing priests should be hung by their testicles, stands up.
“We have, your Honor,” he announces.
“What say ye?”
“We, the jury, in the case of The People versus Micah Breuer, in reference to the count of murder in the second degree, find the defendant, Micah James Breuer, not guilty.”
Astrid flinches.
“On the count of first-degree manslaughter, we, the jury, find the defendant, Micah James Breuer, not guilty.”
“On the count of second-degree manslaughter, we, the jury, find the defendant, Micah James Breuer, not guilty.”
As if she were hanging on these next words as if they were her last hope, Astrid looks behind her, searching for Elaine and Wallace Holcomb. They are nowhere to be found.
“On the count of criminally negligent homicide, we,
